The Knowledge Game

He gently pulls me inside his room.

The walls are light gray, and the floor is black-and-white marble. A contrast that suits the person who sleeps here perfectly. He has the same view I do, but from the opposite side, and his bed is even bigger than mine.

Now that I’m here, I feel uncomfortable.

I walk over to the table and pull out a chair, not wanting to bother him.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at me with amusement, while I feel terribly embarrassed.

“I’m going to sit here. I won’t bother you. You can keep working.”

As if I’ve been electrocuted, I hear a burst of laughter.

I stare at him in shock, half laughing myself, not quite sure why.

“You’re not staying there, and I’m not going to keep working. Come on, come lie down. The bed is way too big, and I promise I won’t touch you. We can watch TV if you want.”

I know I’m blushing. More than just blushing.

I believe he won’t touch me, but lying down in his bed…

Won’t that be a little too… intimate?

“Mmm… Maybe it’s better not. I… I’ll go back to my room and stay there. Sorry for waking you up.”

I get up, wanting to run out the door.

But he’s too fast.

And I’m too slow.

“Nonsense! Come on, lie down. You weren’t going to sit in a chair and get cold.”

He leads me to the corner opposite the door and pulls back the sheets so I can get in.

I almost slip because they’re so silky.

He covers my legs and moves to his side of the bed, putting his computer and phone away on the table.

Then he picks up a remote and presses a button. As if by magic, a television slides down from the ceiling and I stare at it in amazement, my mouth hanging open.

He laughs again.

“Seeing you so shocked by technology is so funny.”

He sits at the other end of the bed.

There’s a huge space between us. Two more people could easily fit right there in the middle.

“I’m not funny. We, mere mortals don’t have that kind of godlike technology.”

“Mere mortals?”

He laughs again.

I almost melt right there, but I keep up the act of a woman offended by being teased.

“So ‘you guys’ don’t have a TV?”

“Yes, we do, but we don’t have a TV that slides down from the ceiling!”

He laughs again.

He clearly didn’t know I could be this funny.

“You’re the best.”

He starts channel surfing.

The ambient lights go out, and the room is illuminated only by the television.

He avoids the news channels, and I quickly realize why. Whatever happened must not have been good for him or the company.

He settles on a cooking channel, where a woman is teaching viewers how to make chicken stroganoff.

We both fall silent, pretending to pay attention to what she’s explaining.

I sink deeper into the pillows.

After a while, I snort in boredom.

“Can we play the knowledge game?”

“The game of what?”

He looks at me with a confused expression.

“The knowledge game. I ask a basic question and you answer. Then it’s your turn. When we get to a question that one of us doesn’t want to answer, the other owes us a favor.”

“So it’s like playing Truth or Dare?”

“Yes, but this way it helps us get to know each other better.”

“All right. Ladies first.”

I start thinking.

What can I ask him that the internet doesn’t already know? I also can’t just dive right in and ask overly intimate questions.

I play it safe and start with something mundane.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

He answers promptly.

“Yes. I have an older brother and a sister who’s two years younger. The age gap isn’t that big

“But why don’t they mention them in the magazines? They usually only talk about you.”

“That’s already two questions, Miss Blair. Now it’s my turn.”

I smile.

He’s right.

I let him have his turn.

“Are your parents married or divorced?”

He starts with a trivial but difficult question.

“My mother passed away many years ago, and my father’s whereabouts have been unknown for many years as well.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…”

“Calm down. It’s been many years. It’s all right.”

I give him the smile I use to put people at ease whenever they ask me this question.

They’re always flustered.

“So, who did you live with?”

“Calm down, Mr. Parker. It’s my turn.”

I tell him, playing along with his game. He smiles, that magnificent smile.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“The wine business. Why?”

We don’t look at each other. We both keep staring at the television, pretending to pay attention and acting as if the questions are part of a casual conversation.

“Wine because my father was an alcoholic.”

His voice changes slightly.

“I was so angry with him so many times that I promised myself I would own everything I could get my hands on that had anything to do with alcohol, just to make him feel ashamed.”

He pauses.

“Fortunately, he managed to get sober before he killed himself for good. He’s been sober for over eight years. And I hope it stays that way.”

I can tell from his tone that his relationship with his father isn’t exactly good, and that this was the most concise version he could give me.

I accept it.

I don’t ask any further questions.

“Your turn.”

“What do you do in your free time?”

“I read a lot! I cook, I walk around the park. But basically, my life is always the same. What changes are the weekends when I’m off.”

I yawn.

His bed is too comfortable.

I slide a little further in, covering the rest of my body.

He doesn’t answer me.

I assume he’s fallen asleep.

I close my eyes, feeling his scent all around me, and I fall asleep peacefully, feeling completely safe.